Will of the Force
by Loqutor
Summary: <html><head></head>In the aftermath of Order 66, Darth Vader enlists the help of CorSec, Corellia's Law Enforcement, to hunt down the last of the galaxy's Jedi.  One officer refuses to help him, for her own personal reasons.  A one-shot.</html>


"Hey, Valo," Vialla Janson asked the bartender, "You ever seen that girl in the corner before?"

He shrugged. "Can't say I have, Via."

"What did she ask you about?"

"Not sure I can recollect," he said, "But perhaps you could help refresh my memory."

She grabbed his outstretched hand, which was reaching for her right headtail, and twisted it. "I told you, Valo, you ain't my type. Now keep your hands to yourself and answer my questions before I book you."

He winced under the pain. "Okay, fine, just let go!" The Twi'lek woman released him. "She ordered a glass of Whyren's and asked me if there was someplace she could stay without having to show ID."

"What did you tell her?"

"I gave her the address of Fazzo's Bed and Breakfast. Why are you so interested? Planning to give her a morning surprise?"

"No, I'm not interested in her that way," Vialla said. "I've received some intel on her, and if it's right, she's my ticket to an early retirement."

"How so?" he asked.

"Not that it's any of your concern, but the Chanc-er, Emperor, would really like her." She patted his shoulders. "You just keep doing what you're best at: serving drinks."

"Heartless yellow-skinned bitch," Valo muttered answered as she followed her target out the door.

As Vialla trailed her, she reviewed the information she'd been given on her datapad. Her target was a human female, twenty years old, with light skin, blue eyes, and red hair, by the name of Drella Vax. She was rather attractive, not unlike the women that Vialla often invited to her apartment for a little diversion. She wore a black leather jacket, a white shirt, and navy blue pants-a rather common arrangement amongst city-dwelling Corellians. She was considered extremely dangerous, so Vialla had been advised to use extreme caution. That didn't bother her, since she had four years of CorSec training under her belt. She took a right turn after the first block, and Vialla continued after her. The Twi'lek turned on her sound-dampening belt and sped up, determined to get the drop on her. As soon as she got within two meters, her prey sped up as well. It was her loss; Vialla knew the streets of Coronet off the back of her hand, and her quarry was headed to a dead end.

When she finally realized that she had walked into a narrow alley, she stopped, and turned to face her pursuer. "Drella Vax," Vialla said, flashing her holobadge, "You are under arrest. Please hand over any weapons on your person and give yourself over to my custody."

"I have no quarrel with you, CorSec," she spoke in a haughty Coruscant accent, "But I will not allow you to turn me over to the Empire."

The Lieutenant drew her blaster and laughed. "Cute, but you're in no position to negotiate."

She gave a wave of her hand. "You will let me go on my way."

Vialla laughed again. "No, I don't think so."

She waved her hand again, and spoke more forcefully. "You _will_ let me go on my way."

Vialla stepped closer to her. "Stop kriffing around. You're coming with me."

In one swift motion, she reached into her jacket and pulled out her lightsaber, which had a green blade. The CorSec officer fired at her legs, hoping to cripple her, but the bolts bounced off her blade and lodged themselves in the walls nearby. This was a defense tactic she'd heard of, so naturally she was prepared; she dropped her blaster and pulled out her riot stick, which had a cortosis weave, making it impervious to lightsabers. The Jedi brought her saber down on the officer, but she easily blocked it. Using a grapple thrust, she knocked the weapon out of her opponent's hands. Now that the Jedi was visibly disarmed, Vialla tapped into her lessons in Bor Degga, the martial art taught to all CorSec officers in which one is taught to think that your opponent has several weapons on her that you can't see, and she will readily use any of them to kill you; she grabbed the woman's arms, twisted them behind her back, tripped her, pushed her to the ground, and sat on her to ensure minimal resistance. "This would've been a lot less painful if you had just cooperated." She slapped a pair of binders over her wrists.

"Why are you helping the Emperor?" the Jedi asked.

"Because he has promised to bring stability to the Galaxy," Vialla answered, picking up her blaster and holstering it.

"In a few months, you will regret having helped him in any capacity."

"Is that a threat, little Jedi?" the Twi'lek asked. "Threatening an officer of the law is a serious offense, you know." She slapped her rear just to show her who had the real authority in their situation.

To Vialla's surprise, the Jedi seemed unruffled. "It's not a threat, it's a warning. The Emperor cares for nobody but himself."

The officer pulled her to her feet by her binders. "Spare me the political talk, sister. Making laws ain't my department. I just carry 'em out." As Vialla pulled her up, her thumb brushed the Jedi's. She wouldn't normally have noticed, but when they touched, she felt something strange; it was as if a wave of calm and trust washed over her. Though she couldn't figure it out, her urge to turn the Jedi over to her higher-ups had disappeared. "Act normal," she said, walking behind her and to her side. Vialla directed her through the streets, through a bus ride, and finally back to her apartment, all the while doing what she could to disguise the fact that she was her prisoner. When they arrived, Vialla locked the door and removed her binders. "You'll be safe here. It's illegal to search the living quarters of a CorSec officer without a warrant."

"But it's perfectly fine if they're a civilian, right?"

"Hey," Vialla grabbed her lightsaber, which she had obviously tried to pull to herself with her powers, "You should be showing me a little more gratitude, Jedi. There's a bounty on your head. That bartender had no qualms telling me you were staying at Fazzo's, and with that information alone I could have arrested you."

Drella sat on the couch. "Do you really expect me to believe that you're helping me purely out of the kindness of your heart?"

Vialla walked into the kitchen and poured a cup of tea. "What does it matter what my motivation is?"

"Motivations guide actions," she said, "The two are intertwined, and inseparable. You cannot fully determine either without knowing both."

She laughed again. "Jedi talk, huh? I always heard that you people spoke in riddles." Drella didn't take the tea when she offered, so she drank a sip to show her it wasn't drugged. "Well, you have psychic powers, don't you? Go ahead, probe my mind. See if I intend to turn you in."

She held the cup in her hands, and closed her eyes. Vialla felt as though there was a foreign presence in her mind, searching her. Apparently, this was one story of Jedi abilities that hadn't been made up (though Vialla was sure most of them were). "No, I don't detect any deceit from you, which is surprising."

"So," Vialla said, "Does that mean you'll just shut up and accept that I really want to help you?"

"Are you always this nice to the people you arrest?"

"Do you always answer questions with a question?"

"Does that bother you?"

"Real funny," Vialla muttered. "And here I kept hearing that you Jedi don't have a sense of humor. Sheesh, all the Jedi in the galaxy are being exterminated, and I end up with their only comedian."

"I do what I can," she said, finishing her tea. "In the meantime, what will I be doing?"

"You'll stay here," Vialla instructed. "Corellia isn't the safest place to go if you're a fugitive. I'll book you anonymous passage to Nar Shaddaa. It's a filthy, crime-ridden place, but the Empire will never find you there as long as you keep a low profile."

"When can I leave?"

"It'll take me at least three days to find you a seat on a freighter, even with my connections. Until then, you can stay here. Help yourself to anything in my kitchen, and feel free to use my 'fresher any time you'd like."

She handed Vialla her tea cup. "Could I please have my lightsaber back? I feel naked without it."

"Certainly not," the officer said, putting it in her safe. "And don't even think of prying the code out of my mind. It's useless without my fingerprints, DNA, and electromagnetic signature." She removed her uniform and hung it on her chair. "Is there anything else you need?"

"Just two things," she said. "I need some peace and quiet for my meditations." She paused.

"And?"

She looked up at her captor. "I need to know your name."

"What for?"

"I can't just call you 'officer' all the time. What is your name?"

She hesitated briefly. "Vialla. Vialla Janson."

"That doesn't sound like a Twi'lek name," Drella observed.

"It's not. It's a Corellian name that I chose for myself."

"How did that happen?"

Viall saw no harm in indulging her, so she sat down next to her on the couch. "My parents came here illegally. I was born a few months after they arrived, so I was automatically made a citizen. About the time I was ten, they were deported back to Ryloth, but I was left behind. The only way I could survive was by joining a street gang. After I'd been with them for a while, a CorSec officer named Varl Janson arrested me. He took me under his wing, got my record cleaned, and got my life back on track. Since my parents had abandoned me, I didn't care for my original name at all, so I took on his surname, since he treated me like a daughter. He died trying to bust a spice ring a few years later, so I swore I'd become an officer in his place."

"You're very good at your job," Drella said, "I'm sure he would be proud of you. Not many sentients can beat a Jedi in hand-to-hand combat."

The Twi'lek tilted her head. "You don't look much like a Jedi."

"How do you mean?"

"I expected people who lead lives of solitude to be more…you know, plain," she ran a finger down her ear, and got the same strange feeling she'd had when she was handcuffing her. She felt a lot more comfortable with the idea of leaving her alone in the apartment. "You're a lot prettier than your picture. I bet you had guys clamoring all over you."

"Not really. The sight of my lightsaber kept them at bay."

"What a shame," Vialla said, "Beauty like yours being wasted."

"Romantic attachments are fraught with emotion," the human said in an almost droid-like manner, "And emotion clouds judgment and confounds logic. Excessive emotion can lead to the Dark Side."

Vialla moved her fingers down to Drella's jaw. "Are you sure you can't make an exception…for just one night? I won't tell any of your Jedi buddies if I run into them."

"Yes," she pushed her hand away. Vialla lowered it, not wanting to offend her guest. "Every step you take towards the Dark Side pulls you in deeper, and twists your soul. Jedi must be especially cautious, because in the hands of a trained Force user such as myself, the Dark Side is truly dangerous."

"Well," Vialla shrugged, "I won't kick you out for resisting me. Just know that you're really missing out."

"You never give up, do you?" Drella pulled her legs onto the couch. "If you'll excuse me, I need to begin my meditations."

The officer walked over to her bedroom door. "Well, good luck centering yourself or listening to the Force or whatever it is you do."

"Sleep well, Vialla," the Jedi said.

Vialla stepped into her bedroom, not looking at her captive again. Nobody had called her by her first name since Varl.

That night, she dreamt about him. She felt him pulling the blaster out of her twelve-year-old hands, putting the binders on her wrists, and throwing her into the back of his speeder. She remembered the runs he put her through during her training. She saw the tears in his eyes and his smile when she graduated from CorSec Academy, and relished the warm, fatherly hug he gave her. Then, she felt him collapse into her arms, a smoking wound in his chest, never to move again. She saw his killer: a raggedy Weequay carrying a red blaster. She chased him through the streets, never catching him. She ran, even when she lost track of him; she ran until it felt her legs had turned to lead. This, with sight variations, was a dream she had every month, and it never ended well.

She woke up the next morning, feeling empty; Drella was still sitting on the couch in the same position as when Vialla had left her. "Hello," she said, not opening her eyes. "Did you sleep well?"

"I didn't, if you must know," she said, pulling a dehydrated meal out of her pantry. "I had the same nightmare I've been having for years."

"Perhaps I can help you resolve that nightmare," Drella said, standing up.

"No thanks," Vialla said, putting some water into her breakfast and heating it. "I had a therapist already. Besides, I hate being indebted to people."

"It's hurting you," the Jedi insisted, "It's distracting you from your job. Do you really not want my help?"

"I don't," Vialla insisted. "I'd just like you to stay here until I can get you off the planet."

"If you say so."

At work, Vialla received a call she'd been dreading. It was from somebody that everybody in the galaxy recognized. He wore a black mask and breathed heavily. He spoke in a deep, distorted, chilling voice. "Progress report, Lieutenant," his hologram said.

"O-on what, sir?"

"You know full well: the Jedi whose information I gave you. Did I not instruct you to hunt her down?"

A shiver ran down the Twi'lek's spine, and she concocted a lie. With how easily Drella had read her, she was grateful that her training had taught her to fool a lie detector. "I encountered her in the streets and pursued her, but she escaped. Tonight, I will redouble my efforts, and use every resource at my disposal."

"I hope you do, for your sake," he said. "The Emperor wants all Jedi, and he is not patient. Do not fail me again, Lieutenant."

"Of course not, sir," Vialla said, saluting him. As soon as the hologram shut off, she dropped her brave façade and began panting heavily, feeling that she had just had a brush with death.

The encounter with him had left her so shaken that she could barely focus for the rest of the day. She left several reports half-finished, sat on her lunch, and jumped at the slightest touch from a co-worker. After she changed her pants and finished a report, Captain Tharen dismissed her early.

When she arrived at her apartment, Drella was sitting on the couch with her eyes closed as a dish in the sink appeared to be cleaning itself. "Your thoughts are disturbed," she said as Vialla hung her jacket on the chair.

"It's nothing," the officer said.

The dish floated out of the sink, dried itself off and flew into the cupboard. "I have offered to help you resolve your issues. My offer still stands."

"No, thank you!" Vialla practically yelled at her. "I don't need your Jedi kark, and I told you, I don't want to be indebted to anybody!"

"You won't be indebted to me," she stood up and walked over to Vialla, "Jedi are obliged to help people, and ask for nothing in return." She grabbed the Twi'lek's hand. "Please, Vialla, allow me to fulfill my duty."

Something about the Jedi seemed to calm Vialla, and she walked over to the couch with her. "Okay. You can try."

"Do as I do." Drella put her hands on Vialla's temples and touched their foreheads together. In that instant, Vialla felt herself pulled into a tunnel of light. All matter seemed to disappear, and she could not tell herself apart from the Jedi. Her feet landed on something solid, and the streets of Coronet materialized around her. There was somebody lying on the ground nearby. Vialla walked slowly to him, dreading the sight. Sure enough, it was Varl, blaster wound and all. Her fists clenched in rage. "You blame yourself for what happened," Drella's voice came.

"Y-yes," Vialla choked out. "If…if I'd gone out on patrol with him instead of getting a drink…he'd still be alive."

"Do not continue to blame yourself," Drella instructed. "Time flows as a continuous line. Each decision we make is part of that line. There are infinite possibilities for alternatives. Dwell on them, and you will lose sight of the present. You cannot change the past, but you can change the future."

"Still," Vialla said, "I'd like to get whoever did this to him. That's the only way I can be at peace."

As if on cue, the weequay who had killed her adoptive father appeared. He would not get away this time. As she had done so many times before, Vialla gave chase to him. Her legs felt lighter than usual, and it was only a matter of time before she overtook him and knocked him to the ground. She drew her blaster, pressing the barrel against his chin. "Are you sure you want to do this?" Drella's voice asked.

"I am," Vialla growled. "He killed Varl! He deserves to die."

"Will killing him bring the man who cared for you back to life?"

It should have. By all the gods of the galaxy, it should have. But Vialla knew the truth. "No. It won't." It was a fact, and no amount of denial would change it.

"If you kill him, your anger towards him will not be sated. You will spend the rest of your life grieving your surrogate father. Only when you forgive his killer will your heart be at peace."

Her teeth grinding, Vialla fought back the tears welling up underneath her eyelids. The weequay looked frightened out of his wits. She lowered her blaster and let go of him. "Get your ugly face out of my sight."

The weequay ran, never looking back. "Revenge never solves all problems. It solves only a few, and creates many more," Drella said. The world around Vialla faded.

Vialla opened her eyes and found Drella clutching her head by the temples. "Thank you," she said, "I feel strangely better after that."

"You have learned a lesson that many never learn," the Jedi answered.

"Again, thank you," Vialla looked into Drella's eyes, deciding that a moment as emotionally investing as this was the best for her to make a move on her guest. "You're…so beautiful," she put a hand on the human's cheek, "So very beautiful." She leaned in and planted a kiss right on Drella's mouth.

Drella wanted to resist. Love was the most dangerous of all emotions. Sure, it could lead to kindness and compassion, but it could also lead to jealousy and hatred, which were the fast track to the Dark Side. Her Jedi logic, for all its shouting, could not drown out her heart. Nobody had ever expressed such an interest in her before. True, she was a Jedi, but she was also a woman, and she had a woman's needs. The only thing she had ever kissed before was the inside of her own elbow. She threw all caution to the wind and leaned in, pushing her tongue into her mouth and lightly stroking Vialla's head-tails. Feeling the officer shudder with pleasure underneath her touch excited her, and she reached down, removing Vialla's undershirt.

Vialla pulled away briefly as Drella stroked her breasts. "Not here. Let's do it in my bedroom." She grabbed Drella's hand and led her in. It was only a matter of seconds before both women were naked and under the sheets. Vialla explored Drella's nether regions with her tongue. Every time she brought home a new woman (or, on rare occasions, a man), she wanted to find out their individual taste. Drella's was a nice blend of sweetness and saltiness, with just a bit of tart.

Drella felt her entire body getting hot. She had never known pleasure like this before. Was this what her masters had denied her? How dare they! There was no danger here, as she didn't run the risk of pregnancy, and she certainly wasn't exploiting Vialla. What could the hazard possibly be? Soon, her mind became empty, as it usually did when she was meditating; instead of serenity, though, she felt pleasure as her thighs twitched uncontrollably against the Twi'lek's head. So absorbed was she in this new sensation that she didn't notice Vialla climbing up until she kissed her. It was strange, tasting herself on the other woman's lips.

"Did you like that?" Vialla asked, wrapping her arms around the human woman's torso.

"That…was the most fun I've ever had," Drella panted. "Thank you."

"We need to clean ourselves up," Vialla said. "Let's hit the 'fresher." The two women allowed the water to flow between their bodies, kissing passionately.

"Thank you for showing me what I was missing," Drella was the first to speak. "I think the Force guided me to you."

Vialla grabbed the soap and rubbed it all over Drella's back. "I wouldn't be too sure about that."

"Why?" Drella asked, turning around.

"Because…I'm not a loving sort of person. I'm more into pleasure. I've broken quite a few hearts in my time."

"You won't break mine," Drella said confidently. "I already know that in a couple days, we'll be parting ways for good."

"If you really believe that," Vialla ran her hands down the Jedi's front, "Then it does take a bit of weight off my conscience," she lied.

"Good," Drella stepped out of the shower and grabbed a nearby towel. "I don't want you to feel guilty because of me."

Vialla couldn't think of a response, and instead just watched as Drella dried herself off and walked out of the bathroom.

Later that night, as the two women lay in bed, Vialla's arm around Drella's waist, a strange light filled the room. The Jedi opened her eyes and saw a silver-haired man in a brown, flowing robe standing by her bed. In a few seconds, she recognized him and quickly pulled the sheets over her breasts. "Master Vado!" she whispered loudly.

"Yes," the man said.

Drella looked to her side, and saw Vialla's chest slowly rising and falling, and her eyes shut. No doubt her body was making up for all the sleep she had lost to her nightmares over the years, rendering her immovable as a rock. "B-but I saw you! You were gunned down by the clones! You…you held them off and told me to run…" her eyes filled with tears.

"Do not weep for me, my apprentice," he said, "After all, 'There is no death; there is the Force.'"

Her former master's recitation of the final tenet of the Jedi Code seemed to bring her some calm. "What's going on, master? Why are you here?"

His specter sat on the sill of the window. "As I'm sure you know, our Order is being spread thin across the Galaxy. We are being picked off like flies."

"Yes, I know. There's a bounty on me. Somebody called Vader is behind it," she said.

"The one you know as Vader is a Sith Lord," he paused. "You are acquainted with him, actually. It's Anakin."

"Anakin…Skywalker?" Drella's jaw dropped. She had always known Anakin to be headstrong and brash, but turning to the Dark Side seemed a bit too much of a stretch, even for him.

"Anakin knows where most of the Jedi keep their safehouses, so he has been quite successful in his exterminations of us."

Drella rolled her eyes. "I figured that. Could you just get to the point?"

"Normally," her master said in a chiding tone, "I'd scold you for your impatience, but time is of the essence…"

The next morning, Vialla woke up and found her bed empty. Panicking, she leapt up and clumsily put her bathrobe on. Her panic stopped when she went into the living room and saw Drella sitting on the couch, meditating, dressed in one of her loose-fitting night robes. Relieved, she kissed her on the cheek and walked into the kitchen to make breakfast. "When does my ride to Nar Shaddaa arrive?" the Jedi asked.

"Good morning to you, too, dearest," Vialla said with just a hint of sarcasm in her voice. "I told you, I have channels to go through, and procedures to follow. I'm doing it under my superiors' noses, so I have to be discreet." She paused. "Why're you in such a hurry, anyway?"

"I was visited by my master last night," Drella said.

"I thought your master was dead. That's what your file said, anyway."

"I was visited by his apparition. He said that he has important work for me to do."

Vialla filled the instant groatcake packages with water and put them in the rehydrator. "What sorta work?"

"On Nar Shaddaa, I'm supposed to meet with another Jedi-a man named Rahm Kota. He and I will rebuild the Jedi Order underground."

"That sounds like a rather long-term goal," Vialla removed the cakes and set them on the table with eating utensils. Drella joined her. "So, why the rush?"

"Nobody can stay in any one place on Nar Shaddaa for too long. It will be hard enough to find him as it is, but with all the beings there, sensing him through the Force will be nearly impossible. My master told me a rendezvous point to go to, and I don't want to miss it."

"Fair enough," Vialla said. "I'll hurry things along if I can, but I really can't promise anything. Still, it doesn't explain why you're so cold this morning."

Drella looked down at her cake. "There's something I must ask you, Vialla, and I want you to give me an honest answer."

"Okay, shoot," Vialla took a bite.

"Have you been in contact with a man named Vader?"

Vialla dropped her food. "How did you…? Oh yeah, you're a Jedi."

"Is that a 'yes'?"

"It is." Vialla took several deep breaths. "Look, Drella, I'm really sorry I didn't tell you earlier. I didn't know how you would take it."

"Have you told him that I am in your custody?"

"No. He-he was just so…terrifying. I couldn't let a man like him know where you are."

"Then I don't see a problem," Drella said. "You didn't tell him that I'm here, so I can trust you."

"How do you know I'm not lying?" Vialla demanded.

Drella simply tapped her temple in response. "For an instant meal, this breakfast is actually quite good."

"Thanks," Vialla said, finishing the rest of her meal in her usual rapid fashion. She cleared off the plate and put on her jacket. "Well, time for me to head out."

Drella stood up and kissed her on the mouth. "Have a good day at work, dearest."

Vialla smiled. "Thank you."

At each of CorSec's stations, there is a small room accessible only through a durasteel door, which is magnetically sealed whenever the room is occupied. Inside this room is a high-grade communications device which provides the user with a grainy but recognizable hologram of whoever is at the other end. The reason for the graininess in such a high-end device is the fact that the signal is normally sent through a port that so thoroughly encrypts the message that a third party could only decode it if they enlisted the help of a team of cryptographers who serve, primarily, Governor Tarkin, Darth Vader, and the Emperor himself (though they will serve other clients who are rich enough). This communications room is accessible strictly to CorSec personnel, Lieutenants and above. Each officer has a specified weekly time limit for use of this room while making outgoing calls, and any officer, even the Attorney General of Corellia, who goes so much as one second over their specified time limit will be subject to an immediate Court Martial, and in all likelihood, expelled from the force and imprisoned for a minimum of twenty standard years. As a Lieutenant, Vialla had a weekly time limit of fifteen standard minutes, which had renewed themselves that very day. She intended to milk them for all they were worth.

For today, she put in a call to a number she'd dialed three times before. The holoprojector showed the face of a male Rodian. "Hello, hello, hello," he said. "Never thought I'd be speaking to you of all people, not after last time, nope, nope, nope."

"Cut the chatter, Krippa," Vialla growled. "I'm here to talk business with you."

"Business, you say?" His voice became even more annoyingly perky than usual. "Yep, yep, yep, that's what I'm here for: business. What can I do for you, Vi?"

"I'm looking for transportation. Do you have anything available?"

"Ah, sorry, sorry, sorry, but if you're looking to book a vacation on Alderaan, I'm afraid I can't help you there, nope, nope, nope."

"If I wanted to go to Alderaan, I'd do it legally. The transportation isn't for me, it's for…" she caught herself before she could give away too much, "It's for a friend of mine. She's on the run from the Empire, and she needs passage to Nar Shaddaa. Do you know of anything I could book her a flight on?"

"The Smuggler's Moon? Yep, yep, yep, perfect place to hide. Nobody'd ever find her there, no sir."

Vialla hit her fist on the desk. "Kriff it, Krippa! Do you have anything or not?"

"Lemme see, lemme see, lemme see…" A sound resonated of him shuffling through datapads. "Ah yes, here, here, here, I've got it: There's a spice freighter leaving docking bay 9 in Coronet tomorrow night. The Captain of that freighter usually only lets passengers onboard for fifteen thousand credits a head. Is your friend that rich?"

"I'll be taking care of that. When can I meet with this Captain?"

"You kin meet him t'morrow evening, yep, yep, yep. I'll let 'im know that you're coming. He's scheduled to leave at nine, but he'll wait an extra half hour for your friend. Is that all you need?"

"Yes. Thank you for hooking me up."

Krippa leaned closer to his communicator. "What about my compensation? Huh? Huh? Huh?"

Vialla sighed. "I'll wire a few hundred credits into your CorelliaBank account."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you. Pleasure doing business with you, Vi."

Vialla shut off the communicator. Krippa was frustrating to deal with, but there was nobody better-connected in Coronet's underground. He was a necessary nuisance, which was probably why she had not yet been given orders to arrest him.

When she got home, she found Drella, as usual, sitting on the couch and meditating. "Good news," she said, sitting next to her and putting a hand on her thigh. "I've secured you a ride to Nar Shaddaa. They'll be leaving tomorrow night, and I'll pay your passage fee." She leaned in, kissing Drella right below her ear. "You'll be out of the Empire's reach soon. Doesn't that make you happy?"

"I'll be happy when I set foot on Nar Shaddaa and shake hands with Master Kota."

"Look, you'll be safe from now until you get on that freighter. I'll escort you there myself and I'll keep my blaster with me. In fact, I'll even let you have your lightsaber back. We'll be fine."

"If you say so," Drella said with resignation.

"C'mon," Vialla put her hand down the younger woman's tunic, reaching for her left breast. Drella grabbed her hand and pushed it away. "Hey, I thought we got past the Vader issue. Why are you giving me the cold shoulder again? Don't you want to make love one last time before you go to that cesspit? Don't you want to have something good to remember?"

"I do," Drella admitted, "And I have no regrets about what we did. I just can't afford to do it again, because when we did it, and I felt the power I had over you, I felt the taint of the Dark Side. I'm sure that, with training, I could control such things when they arise. But I don't have the time now, and it's not a risk I'm willing to take again."

Vialla felt her insides drop out. She couldn't quite figure out why; plenty of women had turned her down for a second round, and it had never bothered her this much. She stood up. "Dinner's in the fridge. Rehydrate it whenever you're ready." She went to bed, feeling downright miserable. Her mind would not stop racing. Nobody, man or woman, had ever gotten to her this much. She wanted Drella like she had never wanted anybody before, and she was being denied; it was too much. She turned on her white noise machine and slid a hand between her legs, hoping to find some small measure of relief. She bit her lip to stifle her cries, both of grief and pleasure.

The next day at work wasn't easy, either. Every time Vialla tried to focus on her task, that damned Jedi would enter her mind. She found herself writing "Drella" all over her arrest reports. Her supervisor-a dark-skinned human named Velka Tharen-certainly noticed, and he took a rather novel approach: he excused her from work early, and took her out for a drink. "So, Janson," he asked, sitting next to her, and sipping a Devaronian brandy, "Who is this 'Drella'?"

Vialla's romantic conquests weren't exactly a secret in CorSec's South Coronet branch (thanks to their including several fellow officers), so she told the truth-but not the whole truth. "She's a girl I picked up a few nights ago."

"You pick up girls all the time," he pointed out to her, "And you've never obsessed over any of them this much."

"I know," Vialla said, swallowing a glass of Alderaanian ale, and demanding another. "That's what bothers me. Yes, she's definitely sexy, but I've never felt this way about anybody before. It goes beyond lust. It's that…every time I'm near her, I just want to hold her in my arms and kiss her until the sun goes down. She's going to be leaving Corellia tonight, and I'll probably never see her again."

"You're in love with her." It wasn't a question.

"I know," Vialla sighed.

"Have you told her how you feel?"

"I-I've tried. She makes it hard. Every time I try to establish a connection with her, she just turns away and refuses to talk."

"I think she feels the same way about you."

"She does," Vialla said, "And she doesn't like it."

"You're both putting yourselves through a lot of unnecessary pain. You need to get her where she can't evade you, and tell her straight out how you feel." He put a hand on her shoulder. "Love doesn't always come around like this. Take it, grab it and hold on."

Vialla smiled. "Thanks, Chief. I really needed that kick in the pants."

"And if it doesn't work out, Janson, just remember that there's always a position for you in CorSec. You're a good officer, and I'd hate to lose you."

She put her arms around him. "That's very thoughtful of you, Chief."

After sobering up for a couple hours, Vialla grabbed the shuttle home, and found Drella in the middle of a meal. "Is it time to leave yet?" the Jedi asked.

"Yes," Vialla said, opening her safe and removing Drella's lightsaber, "It'll take us a while to get to Docking Bay 9, and I've got a few places to stop at on the way."

They stopped at the bank, where Vialla transferred Krippa's fee to his account, and withdrew thirty thousand credits. She took them out to her speeder, but didn't start it up. "Drella," she said, "There's something I have to say."

"Make it quick," she said, "I have a bad feeling."

Vialla grabbed the human's hand. "I've made up my mind, Drella. I want you. I wanna be with you. I wanna live with you on Nar Shaddaa. I wanna make love to you every night. And if you need to learn to control your emotions when we do it, I will wait for you to do so. I just wanna be with you, whatever it takes."

Drella looked away. "I…wasn't expecting this." She swallowed. "I can't stop you from coming with me. I'll have to think about it, but in the meantime, could we please get a move on? Something's headed our way."

Vialla sighed. "Okay." She started up her speeder, driving for the North docking bays of Coronet. Both women were silent for the entire drive until they arrived at the entrance to the space port. "We'll have to go on foot from here." They strode through the docks, holding hands to avoid getting separated.

Drella shuddered. "It's here. That presence I felt; it's here."

In the distance, Vialla spotted him, right at the entrance to Docking Bay 9. It was the man she was dreading to see, and he was far more terrifying in real life than in his hologram. He was dressed entirely in black, literally from his head to his toes, and easily stood two meters high. His presence touched Vialla's being much the way Drella's had, but it lacked the soothing aura, and instead made Vialla feel as though he would consume her very soul. "Wait here," she whispered to Drella, "I'll see if I can get rid of him." Drella silently nodded, and slipped into the shadows.

"Lieutenant Vialla Janson?" the tall, dark man asked in his deep, booming voice.

Vialla saluted him. "Yes, Lord Vader?"

"Have you captured the Jedi yet?"

It was a struggle to avoid looking away as Vialla lied to him, but she managed. "I'm sorry, Lord Vader. We have received intelligence that seven hours ago, a woman matching her description boarded a freighter headed for the Y'Toub system. I'm afraid she's now outside of CorSec's jurisdi-" Her sentence was cut short with a gagging sound.

Vader held out his hand and Vialla clutched at her neck, her breathing made nearly impossible. "You are as deceitful as you are stupid. Did you imagine, for one minute, that you could protect the last Jedi on Corellia?"

"H-how did you…?"

"How did I know about her? I could feel her through the Force, and I had my personal cryptographer decode your conversation with that filthy Rodian. Whatever was going through that addled mind of yours?"

"What…do you…?"

"I don't care how you hoped to accomplish it. All I want to know is your motivation. _Why_ did you help her?"

"B-because…"

"Because what?"

Vialla took a deep breath and choked out her answer. "Because…I love her!"

No sooner had the words left Vialla's lips than Vader was thrown backward, and his mysterious grip on her throat vanished. Wondering what had happened, she looked about and saw Drella, her lightsaber lit and her palm extended. "Run, Vialla!" she yelled.

"No, Drella, what…?"

"Run! I'll hold him off, you just escape! Get on the freighter!" By this time, Vader was back on his feet, and had lit his own lightsaber, which had a red blade.

Drella flicked her fingers, and Vialla flew through the docks, away from the two fighters. Vader bore down on Drella, who could feel his immense power immediately. "Anakin?" she asked, side-stepping one of his blows. "It really isn't you, is it?"

The man's movements became more rapid and less accurate. "No, Drella. That part of me is dead. I am now Vader, Dark Lord of the Sith."

"No, it's not," Drella said. "It's still very much a part of you. Fight the darkness, Anakin! You're stronger than it is. I know you!"

"You knew Anakin, and he is gone," Vader said, "Surrender to me, become my apprentice, and I will spare you."

"If you really have become a Sith," Drella jumped over Vader, landing behind him, "Then I have no reason to take you at your word. Sith are liars."

Vader turned to face Drella, redirecting a blow meant to sever his arm, but that only succeeding in singeing his cape. "You're making a terrible mistake, young one. I'll give you a chance to correct it."

"I will never join the Sith!" Drella said with conviction.

"Then we will let our lightsabers finish this conversation for us," he went in for a decapitating strike, but Drella ducked in time to avoid it. In a few moments, it was undeniably clear who had the advantage, as Drella parried Vader's blows while backing away from him. He held out his hand and Drella went flying, her back slamming against a nearby wall with a sickening slap. Thanks to her Jedi training, she was able to get her breath back before Vader closed the gap between them, and rolled out of the way of a killing strike.

Even from seven meters away, Vialla could see the sweat pouring down her lover's face as she deflected the powerful man's strikes once, twice, thrice…and then it was over as Vader knocked away Drella's lightsaber, and impaled her through the chest with his own. It was an image that permanently burned itself into the Twi'lek woman's memory. The Jedi's body fell to the ground, lifeless. In a fit of rage, completely disregarding what Drella had taught her about the futility of revenge, she drew her blaster and fired a volley of shots at Vader, who effortlessly deflected them all with the blade of his lightsaber, one of the bolts lodging itself in her arm. She cried out in pain, clutching the spot with her hand, as Vader reached out, and her blaster flew from her hand into his.

Within moments, the blade of his weapon was at Vialla's neck. "Go ahead and kill me, Vader," she said with all the defiance she could muster. "I have nothing to live for."

Vader stepped back and extinguished his lightsaber. "You truly loved her, didn't you?"

"Yes. I was going to start a new life with her."

The man clipped his lightsaber to his belt, along with the one from the dead Jedi. "I will not kill you. At this point, killing you would be an act of mercy, and we Sith despise mercy above all else. Live with your pain. Live with the hole in your heart. Live with the knowledge that you helped to guide your lover to her death." Turning his back on the scene of carnage, he walked away.

Vialla strode over to Drella's body, closing the eyelids with her fingers. She slung it over her shoulders and set it in her speeder, which she drove out to a remote plain. There, she gave her former lover a Jedi funeral, as she would have wanted, and burned her body on a pyre. This, she decided, would be the last thing she ever did to honor the "Force" that Drella had served. If the Force had a will of its own, why did it lead Drella to end her life so tragically? Why did she try to save Vialla's life instead of running to the freighter and preserving the Jedi Order? And why did the Force care so little for her when she had devoted her life to it?

These were questions that Vialla was sure she'd never find answers to.


End file.
